Fess Up
by Princess Persephone
Summary: Hermione and Ron get locked in the same room after a major row. Ron finds himself confessing his feelings . . . need I say more?


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter characters, but Brett is my own creation; so please restrain yourself from stealing him. lol  
  
Hey all! This is only my second HP fic ever, so bare with me. Here it is:  
  
'Fess Up  
  
"I can't believe we're stuck in this room." Hermione sighed. They would be lucky if anyone even passed the door. She was locked up with him in the most avoided part of the tower, of the whole castle. Who would come to save her? Especially considering how no one was there except them . . .  
  
"Yeah." He was staring out the window. Probably searching for a way to climb down and get away from her. Hermione wondered if he was looking for her prince in shining armor that should come and rescue her. She would be too, if Ron hadn't been hogging the good window that looked out at the lake and all the good scenery. All she had was a stupid, ugly view of the forest, not a reminder she'd like to see just then. Yes, that's right. Hermione was stuck in a room with Ron Weasley for who knew how many hours. And after that episode out in the forest yesterday--  
  
An uncomfortable silence fell upon them, thickening the air. Neither one of them knew what to say.  
  
Speaking the first thing that popped into her mind, just to get out from under the pressure of the tense silence, Hermione said after a while, "I-- I understand that Ginny broke up with Colin."  
  
"Yeah," Ron answered shortly. What else was he supposed to say? That he was sad? Deep down he was glad that Ginny had finally gotten out from under that disaster disguised as a relationship. After another pause he said lightly, "Everyone seems to be breaking up. Ginny and Colin, Harry and Lavender, Parvati and Lee . . . In fact," Ron continued trying to get a conversation going, "I broke up with Hannah the other night."  
  
Hermione looked at him quickly. Was he trying to somehow bring up the subject they had touched upon yesterday afternoon? The one that she'd really rather not talk about? Or was he just talking to get some words in the air? "Oh." What else was she supposed to say? That she was glad? Or sorry? "I thought you two were getting on so well."  
  
Ron shrugged, glad that she was at least holding some what of a conversation with him, even if what they were talking about was his private --and lack of a-- love life. "We both sort of agreed that it wasn't the right road for either of us to take together. And dating Hannah only heightened my dislike of her."  
  
Not knowing what else to say, Hermione insisted lamely, "But she was so sweet."  
  
"May be," he said, "but she wasn't my type." Receiving no response, and not thinking at all about what he was doing, he suddenly asked softly, his whole tone of voice changing, "Do you want to know who my type is?" As soon as he said it, Ron silently cursed himself. What a stupid thing to say. Stupid, stupid. That was a pick up line if he'd ever heard one. Ron swallowed, knowing it hadn't come out sounding nonchalantly at all. She probably thinks I meant to say that, he thought.  
  
Hermione looked up, then averted her eyes. "Uh . . ."  
  
"Sorry," Ron said quickly, embarrassed, feeling his ears go red. "Never mind."  
  
Another uncomfortable silence.  
  
What a wonderful, indirect way to bring up the last conversation we had, Ron thought. But once the thought of talking about their row got into Ron's head, he couldn't get it out. Why shouldn't they talk about it? They'd have to face it some day.  
  
"Look, Herms, we have to confront this sooner or later," Ron started. He was aware of Hermione's head popping back up and staring at him. How was he supposed to say this? Why had he started this conversation? "I'm going mad with all this suspense. It's driving me crazy. You're driving me crazy. I . . . I mean what I said, back there, in the woods," Ron said.  
  
"You mean that you only see me as Brett's girlfriend?" she said at once, seemingly ready for this. Controlled pain and anger were buried in her voice. Her eyes glinted across the room from him, dark with emotion. He hated seeing her this upset-- especially when he was the cause of it.  
  
"No, I . . ." How should he put this?  
  
"Well, that's pretty much what you said the other day."  
  
Ron felt a tweak at his old habit of arguing with Hermione about everything she said. "You might think I implied it, but I certainly didn't say it," he retorted hotly.  
  
"Sure you didn't."  
  
"Oh please, and you are just . . . now how did you say it? . . . Ah, you're just 'worried about our friendship and if it's in trouble.' . . . Like you actually meant that."  
  
"Ron Weasley, you're so . . . UGH!!! Never mind!" Hermione turned toward the window, glad at least to not have to look at him.  
  
Ron looked down, wishing he hadn't let his temper get the best of him. "I, I meant after that bit."  
  
Hermione froze. Her heart suddenly pounded loudly in her ears, though she didn't completely know why what he said should send her heart racing. So what if he was talking about after the 'Brett's girlfriend' part. That didn't mean he actually . . . But what if he did? What if he was talking about . . . ? Could he possibly mean . . .? She turned around and looked at him.  
  
"I . . ." Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably, starting again. "Remember how I said that maybe I wanted to be . . . more than just friends?"  
  
Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. His eyes bored into her and she felt that if she even blinked that he'd disappear and she wouldn't hear what he wanted to say and that she'd wake up and from this dream. Because it had to be a dream. Or otherwise a nightmare. How else in the world could Ron be speaking to her like this? Talking to her about an embarrassing conversation they'd had that she'd rather not bring up. Telling her that he . . . that he . . .  
  
"And remember how I said that maybe I . . . maybe I-- I'm a bit . . . fonder of you than just as a friend?" He took a step forward.  
  
Hermione nodded again, wishing earnestly that the blush on her face hid any hope that might have shown otherwise.  
  
"And remember," Ron went on, biting his lip, "remember how I said that maybe . . . maybe my feelings went a bit farther than fondness?" How could she ever have thought that he only saw her as Brett's girlfriend? He saw her as so much more-- but he didn't know how to convey that feeling into words. "And how I said that I-- I sort of fancied you for a while--" Why did his face have to go up in flames now? What was that look on her face? "And, and remember how I started saying that maybe I--I l--"  
  
"And then we were interrupted," Hermione interrupted, suddenly finding her tongue. She felt herself go pale at his final words. She half expected Ron to go blurry and find herself waking up in her bedroom from this dream. But no, everything stayed perfectly stationary. This turn of conversation had taken her aback, and half of her wanted to hear him so badly she'd do anything to stay and listen, while her other half wanted to scream and drown out his voice and plug her ears and run away and hide under the covers of her bed to get away from his voice. She couldn't think about what he might feel for her when she was already deep into a commitment with another man.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said, breaking eye contact. "Well, what I was going to say was-- that maybe I . . ." God, why was this so bloody hard? Why did he always make things so hard to say, especially in front of her? "What I mean is . . ." He couldn't say it. He knew he couldn't. Why had he started this conversation anyway? Why was he trying to tell her this now, here? When she so obviously didn't feel even the remotest kind of feeling for him in return except that of friendship. But why shouldn't he tell her if it was true-- and it was true; he, most of all, knew that in the very centre of his being. If he felt . . . a certain feeling towards her, then why shouldn't he tell her? She should at least know --he needed her to know-- he couldn't bear all this dancing around the truth anymore.  
  
Then, all at once, Ron blurted, "I love you." It was said so boldly and full of passion that the silence it brought caused his head to snap up and stare at the woman he was talking to.  
  
I love you.  
  
The words echoed in her head, over and over again. It was what she'd dreaded and hoped for. She wanted to smack him for suggesting such an idea --okay, stating, telling her that he . . . loved . . . her-- but she also wanted to jump up and dance a jig and sing and laugh and smile and kiss him-- Whoa. She wanted to kiss him? Ron? The man who had been her best friend for years? The man who told her that he loved her? The man whose brown eyes looked so tenderly into hers? But she was-- she couldn't, not when she . . . not when . . .  
  
Hermione swallowed. It seemed like forever since Ron had stopped talking.  
  
He waited, expectantly. Like a love-struck puppy.  
  
It hurt her to see his eyes looking expectantly at her like that. As if he expected a response, the right response when someone tells you that they love you. She felt a twang in her heart when she thought about how he would react when he got her response. He was a fool. A fool to say that he loved her, when he didn't --couldn't-- actually mean it. Because he couldn't mean it. Didn't he know how deep her relationship with Brett was? He was a fool to utter his true feelings. For all at once Hermione could see very clearly that he loved her. He was wearing that old sweater she'd given him years ago for Christmas. His eyes and features, his face and stance, the way he talked and laughed --even the way he combed his hear-- spoke volumes of his admiration. She nearly gasped with the overwhelming unexpectedness and feeling the thought caused her.  
  
She looked away and stuck out her left hand so that he could see. Why did she have to be so cold? He wanted a reply and all she could give him was an outstretched hand? What a coward she was.  
  
Ron waited, patiently. Never had time seemed to move so slowly. He felt her digesting his words, contemplating them, her eyes traveling up and down his figure. Then she froze, her eyes enlarging with an unexpected thought. What? What was she thinking? Ron wanted to know her response so badly that he couldn't do anything but stare at her. His mind screamed at him, telling him he was a fool for letting out his secret, and his heart screamed out for a response from her lips. It was killing him, not knowing her reaction. He should have at least kept talking; to take some of the electricity out of the air; to let her think he wasn't pressuring her to respond in the way he wanted her, so desperately, to respond; to, even if he didn't get the result he wanted, make this moment last just a little bit longer.  
  
Then, she turned her head down (So she doesn't see my reaction, Ron thought with a sinking heart). His thoughts were justified when he saw her left hand.  
  
A big, sparkling diamond ring encircled her ring finger.  
  
That ring mocked him, telling him that she'd never be his.  
  
Ron could feel his blush cover every square centimeter of his skin. Embarrassment flooded his vision. He looked away from the glaring jewel and said, "Oh."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione said, dropping her arm limply at her side. At least he wouldn't have to look at that great, ugly, mocking ring on her beautiful finger anymore. "I'm engaged." Her voice cracked and she broke off uncertainly.  
  
A pause.  
  
"Who are you marrying?" Ron croaked, failing at trying to make his voice sound steady. He knew who she was engaged to. He had probably known when they had both found themselves locked in the same room. Funny how he hadn't noticed that diamond before. It was strange-- it practically screamed for attention. Her clothes, her face, everything about her yelled at him that she was engaged to someone. He blinked back a single tear trying to make its way out and down his face. Let her think he had something in his eye. In fact, he did have something in his eye. A few pieces of his shattered heart.  
  
Hermione looked back up at his neutral tone of voice. She knew that he knew who it was already. She had, in fact, called herself her fiancé's girlfriend not ten minutes ago. He knew as well as she did whom she was engaged to.  
  
"I . . . I'm not going to tell you," she answered uncertainly.  
  
"Why not?" The old look was back in his eye. The one full of love and tenderness was gone, as if it had never been. But this look was somehow still different. Then Hermione realised why it was so. His eyes bespoke of great pain.  
  
Never had Ron experienced such pain. He was sure she could see the sign on his forehead that read 'REJECTED.' It hurt so badly, getting an answer that Hermione wasn't allowed to love him. So badly he wanted some physical pain to make it seem more real. To distract himself from the hole in his heart-- Wait. She wasn't allowed to love him. Ron blinked, and, in the middle of a conversation with her, he realised that her saying she was engaged didn't answer his statement at all. So what if she was engaged to someone else. Did she love him back?  
  
Right after Hermione noticed that his eyes were cloudy with pain, they cleared up. A strong sense of hope filled his being again and he stood taller.  
  
Hermione looked at him uneasily. Where had the hurt gone? Not that she wanted to hurt him --of course not, he was her best friend-- but why had it disappeared? What did he know that she didn't know? Why was he so confident all of a sudden? Didn't he understand? She was engaged. She was marrying Brett. Her best friend shouldn't get locked up in a room with her and tell her, in a voice that made her knees go weak, that he loved her. People shouldn't go around telling their best friends that they love them more than as a friend. Especially not Ron. Didn't he understand what saying something like that could do to her?  
  
Realising that he was awaiting an answer to his question, Hermione said, "Because you'll go out and find my fiancé and give him a good arse kicking and beat the living crap out of him as soon as you can."  
  
Ron smiled, unperturbed. "So you admit that I could kick his--"  
  
"No," she cut him off quickly. "I mean that you'll try to kick his arse and make a complete prat out of yourself in the process."  
  
Ron waited for her to finish talking before saying, "I don't think you heard me correctly the first time, and I won't have you not listening to me, Hermione Granger. I will be heard." He took a step toward her. "I love you. Do I have to spell it out?"  
  
Startled by this, Hermione stared at him. Didn't he understand?! She was getting married. Did she have to spell that out for him? She couldn't love him; wasn't allowed to. She was angry with him. She was angry with him for bringing this up. For saying that he loved her. He couldn't and she couldn't. He shouldn't and she shouldn't-- didn't, she told herself firmly.  
  
"I love you," Ron repeated. "I don't care what's on your hand, or what it means. You're the only one I've ever loved." He took another step toward her.  
  
"Don't say things like that," Hermione warned, stepping back as he slowly walked across the room to her.  
  
"Why not, when it's true? I love you. If I shouted it out across the rooftops below, would you believe me?"  
  
Another step.  
  
"Please," she begged, not certain what she was begging for. Trying to sound as if she didn't, she said, "Don't act like a child."  
  
That was it. No more denying it. Ron walked up to her, standing so close they nearly touched. He was right there, in front of her, so close that she was pressing herself to the wall to get away. Her eyes were huge.  
  
"Is that the way you see me?" he asked, eyes flashing. She felt his breath hot upon her cheek. "As a child?"  
  
"Well, you're not acting very mature right now, are you?" she retorted, glaring at him, trying to slip away from him, but he just leaned in closer. "Saying you could shout love across the rooftops. You don't even know what love is." There, she'd said it. The thing she'd wanted to say to him for a long time.  
  
"Oh, really?" He didn't sound uneasy at all, and it unsettled her. He reached out and took a piece of her hair, examining it "I don't know what love is?" Suddenly he dropped her hair and put both of his hands on either side of her, leaning against the wall, his face level with hers. The distance between them was getting smaller by the second. "Do you know what people do when they're in love?" he whispered.  
  
Hermione's attention had been dragged down to his lips when he'd gotten so close. Why was he whispering all of a sudden? And what was that question supposed to signify? That he knew what people did when they were in love? That he knew about sex? Please. But, seriously, he should really back up. She might get tempted to kiss him, due to his overpowering manly hormones or something, and she wasn't allowed to. It wasn't right. He should really-- "What do they do when they're in love?" she whispered back, curiosity and a little panic apparent in her voice.  
  
"This."  
  
Ron cupped her face in his hands and leaned in, capturing her trembling lips with his own; kissing her gently, slowly, as if the world would end if he stopped. He kissed her so expertly that she couldn't move except to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer. Brett had never kissed Hermione like this, pressing hard but tenderly, like Ron was doing right now, her face in one of his hands, bending her back across his other arm, as if the only thing Ron was thinking about was kissing her. His soft lips were warm and good and better than how anyone else had ever kissed her before in her life. It was sweet and tender and moved her almost to tears. She couldn't stop, didn't want him to stop, hoped fervently that he'd never stop.  
  
But eventually Ron broke the kiss gently and asked her in a teasing manner, "Am I a better kisser than Brett?"  
  
Hermione's trembling, watery body went pale. "How did you know I was marrying him?" she whispered.  
  
Ron pushed some of the hair in her face behind her ear and stroked her cheek. "Oh, I know that you're engaged to him, but I seriously doubt that you'll ever actually marry him."  
  
Hermione looked at him, conscious of his body pressing against hers. "What, what makes you say that?"  
  
Ron lifted her chin until she looked him in the eye again. He said seriously, "Call it a hunch," before kissing her again with those grinning, perfect, infuriating lips.  
  
A second later, Hermione blinked and pulled away from him. She stared. "Are, are you . . .?" She searched his face. Was he actually asking her in some strange, Ron-like way to marry him? "Are you asking me to marry you?" Unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, Hermione knew she was being an idiot, thinking such a thing. He might think she wouldn't marry Brett, but she doubted that Ron expected to marry her. He was probably just joking, or maybe it all was a hunch. And if he meant that her relationship with her boyfriend wasn't strong enough for them to get married, well, she'd show him. She wasn't engaged for anything. She'd marry Brett and show Ron that her relationship with Brett was strong enough to make her forget him. They had a good, solid relationship. It's just that when a guy, especially your best friend, comes up out of the blue and says that he loves you, you get a little off-balance and sometimes wonder if you might love him back, even though it might . . . not . . . be true. It had nothing to do with how strong her relationship with her boyfriend was, or if they were ready to get married. They were. She knew they were. Ron was probably just being a prat or something; playing with her feelings, with her mind. After all, guys only thought about getting laid and then running out early in the morning, as if nothing had happened. Hermione knew that she was jumping to conclusions again, but she couldn't help her heart from dropping to her stomach when he replied, not even catching the sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"No, I'm not." Ron rolled his eyes and said with a smile, "Maybe not marry quite yet, but at least we can try it. When two people love each other, no mater how deeply in love they are, they should at least go out once or twice before the big day."  
  
Such relief filled Hermione's body that she couldn't believe it. All her doubts were swept away. No wonder she hadn't felt anything except the need to vomit when Brett had asked her to marry him. She hadn't loved him. She didn't love him. Not at all. She loved Ron. She had known she loved Ron all the time, but she just couldn't admit it to herself, afraid of his returning her feelings, afraid that he wouldn't return her feelings. But now that she knew he loved her, and that she loved him desperately in return, how could she ever marry Brett?  
  
Before she could respond with words to his answer, the door creaked open and in popped a head Hermione knew so well.  
  
"I just got back from the kitchen, and I thought I heard voices, so--" Brett stopped short at seeing his once-fiancée in the arms of Ron. He frowned, wondering what he had just interrupted. Something intimate, he was sure. But before he could march over, pull Ron away and give him a good punch in the face, Hermione hurried over to him and dropped something in his hand.  
  
It was the ring he'd given her. Her engagement ring.  
  
"I'm sorry, Brett," Hermione said, unable to keep the joy out of her face or voice. "But I just can't go thought with it."  
  
Brett blinked, staring at the ring in his hand. She was rejecting him? Him, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, with second highest marks in the school except for Hermione? Then he glared over at Ron, seething. "Oh, so he persuaded you not to marry me, huh? Bastard. How about I tell you why you shouldn't marry him, then we'll be even and see who's right. What lies did he tell you this time?"  
  
Hermione was taken aback, so she told the truth. "That he loves me."  
  
"And I can assure you," added Ron, stepping up and putting his arm around Hermione's waist, "that I would hardly call that a lie."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Yea! It's over! Yeah, now that I've read over it, it really reminds me of a bad romance, novel, but whatever. Hoped you didn't think it was too bad!  
  
Please r/r! Thanks! 


End file.
